


minty fresh

by sumaru



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dominance, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Sexual Content, The Metaphor Is About Spitting In Someone's Mouth, The Spitting Is A Metaphor, Toothbrushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-21
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2019-04-05 11:35:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14043405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sumaru/pseuds/sumaru
Summary: The cheery sound Oikawa makes in reply is lost to the toothbrush stuck inside mouth; white foam and drool is already dribbling from the seam of his lips despite his best efforts, and Kageyama can’t stop staring at the thin line of spit sliding down Oikawa’s long fingers gripped around the toothbrush.Oikawa spits in Kageyama's mouth.





	minty fresh

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry.

 

 

 

Oikawa flops facedown onto the bed beside Kageyama and doesn’t move. 

It’s a little dramatic, ( _It’s a lot dramatic,_ Kageyama scowls) and Kageyama is sure that it’s been at least ten minutes since Oikawa’s moved at all, but it’s nothing Kageyama isn’t used to by now. He resists the urge to nudge Oikawa with his foot, because that would be rude when Oikawa is so clearly exhausted from their long practice this evening, and somewhere at the back of his mind he knows that if he did, Oikawa would slip into that too familiar smile and Kageyama would find himself on the receiving end of suddenly a lot more Oikawa than he initially bargained for.

Kageyama goes a little red in the face at the thought, just as Oikawa starts rolling around and making indecipherable plaintive noises, so Kageyama reaches out with one foot from where he is lying, and pushes a little at Oikawa’s bare leg sticking out. The skin is tan and smooth, and Kageyama’s foot might have slowed a little as he brushes down Oikawa’s thigh; Oikawa is still wearing his knee brace, and the way the top of it indents around his lower thigh makes all that lean muscle look so soft, makes Kageyama think about how pliant it would feel under his fingers. 

“ _Disrespectful_ ,” Oikawa mutters into the pillow. “Is this how you treat your wonderful captain who works so hard for you.” He still doesn’t lift his face and half the words get mumbled, but Kageyama is used to that, too.

“Please get ready for bed, Oikawa-san,” Kageyama says, staring at the way Oikawa’s hair fluffs lightly over the arch of his bare neck. He looks away, swallowing slowly. “At least brush your teeth.”

When Oikawa mumbles something again into the pillow, Kageyama dutifully slips off the bed and goes to the ensuite bathroom. They spend so much time travelling with the national team, their bathroom still gleams with the undisturbed glossy white of a hotel room. But the pair of green and blue toothbrushes that sit in the single cup never changes; it travels with them too, plain unbranded toothbrushes given to them at their monthly physical, but something about this smallest detail that always greets them at the end of the day, lends even the farthest corner of the world every feeling of home.

Kageyama picks up the green toothbrush and carefully squeezes a thick line of toothpaste across the bristles; the mint is strong in his nose, prickling a sneeze that gets stuck there in his scrunched up face, and for a few seconds he stands there in this too white bathroom, lights reflected blinding off every glossy surface, and he feels out of place, like everything in this moment is too good, too big for him. Even wearing victory with Oikawa at his side didn’t feel anything like this; these lights, this room, this _home_.

“Tobio-channn,” Oikawa sing-songs from the bedroom. “If you’re jerking off in there, hurry up and come back to bed.”

“I’m not—”

“Whatever you say, Tobio!” Oikawa is sitting up in bed, glasses propped on the end of his nose as he winks at Kageyama; he’s stripped down to black boxer-briefs as his only concession to bedtime readiness. Kageyama doesn’t remember Oikawa owning a pair like this, the thin fabric stretched tight across his thighs, but something about the logo that sits at the elegant curve of his hipbone is familiar; a sponsor product, probably. “It’s okay, we’re both men, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

Kageyama feels heat spread across his cheeks; he hands over the toothbrush without looking at Oikawa, and crosses his arms in a huff. “I’m not. I really wasn’t.”

The cheery sound Oikawa makes in reply is lost to the toothbrush stuck inside mouth; white foam and drool is already dribbling from the seam of his lips despite his best efforts, and Kageyama can’t stop staring at the thin line of spit sliding down Oikawa’s long fingers gripped around the toothbrush. Kageyama can smell the mint of it from where he’s standing by the side of the bed, and he doesn’t realise he’s reaching out to wipe it away until Oikawa grabs him by the wrist and yanks him into his lap.

Kageyama is suddenly very aware that he’s hard; the softness of Oikawa’s hair is tickling his nose, clean white soap and an earthiness that speaks of warm skin and summer days and long, long practice hours setting for Oikawa’s clever plays on the wide beautiful space of the Olympic court, and it’s overwhelming, a smell that lights something so fierce and longing in the pit of Kageyama’s stomach that he feels young and helpless all over again as he moans softly against Oikawa’s cheek, legs already spreading across the breadth of Oikawa’s thighs.

“You didn’t bring the cup, did you.” Oikawa asks, tilting his head back a little so he doesn’t drool foam from his mouth. His glasses are slightly askew, light glinting off them, and Kageyama can’t see his eyes from this angle; but there’s a smear of toothpaste foam across Oikawa’s bottom lip, his mouth red and wet and tingling with it, and this close Kageyama can almost taste the cool shiver of mint off them. Oikawa’s fingers are shiny with spit; one hand is pressing against the line of Kageyama’s spine, and he feels himself arch against the insistent spread of those long fingers. “Open your mouth, Tobio.”

It’s almost unfair the way Oikawa grinds up against Kageyama in that moment. His mouth falls opens at the warmth of Oikawa’s thighs against the hardness of his cock, already too sensitive in the confines of his boxers, and when Oikawa drops the toothbrush into the sheets to grab Kageyama’s chin in a vice grip, head held still, Kageyama keeps his mouth open obediently as Oikawa slowly spits the entire mess of toothpaste foam and drool into Kageyama’s mouth.

When Kageyama closes his mouth, he can feel Oikawa’s tongue hot against the skin of his throat, mouth following the movement as Kageyama swallows it all down with only the smallest noise.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> My second favourite season is mint.
> 
> (I wrote this a while ago but am spring cleaning and moving all my oikage to one account!)


End file.
